The Effect of Time/Space On The Human Heart
by Rigil Paix
Summary: After CT, many things are to be explained... [Ch.3 up]
1. The Newest Soldier

THE PRESENT, 1000 AD,  
  
Several months after the group's defeat of Lavos  
  
Lucca sighed and pushed her hovering chair away from the various scientific instruments on the table. Another night spent laboring over her workstation, wasted. Another eight- whoops, no, twelve- hours wasted with nothing to show but more conclusive evidence that her latest project was a flop. Raising the glasses of her helmet from her eyes, she roughly dug her palms against her eyes and stretched. She took a deep breath and looking out into the pre-sunrise at the wooded distance and the single road that led past the estate where she lived.  
  
Sighing again, she thought wistfully back to the adventures of the last few months, traveling through time to save a future they would never see... "Oh Crono, why did it have to end so quickly?" she said aloud, unconsciously. Settling back into her chair, she resolutely thought to herself that, just one more hour of work, and she would get to sleep. Just one, one small, little...  
  
Taban heard his daughter's voice from the bottom of the stairs and he reflected too on the past few months. Their work on the Telepod-cum-Time Machine had been one of the only inventions that had gone over well. It was also the first one not to blow up, a small part of him chided. He smiled the smile of a content man, perfectly satisfied in every way. A beautiful wife, an incredible machinist for a daughter, and the chance to spend more time with them both... How delighted he was to know Lucca had been able to grow so much as a young woman, as well as have the time to save the future of humanity. He cursed himself silently for not being the father he could have (should have!) been. Simply leaving her to her books, he was "too busy" whenever something important happened in her life.  
  
The crash from Lucca's room drew Taban out of his reverie. Climbing the stairs to Lucca's room, he silently wondered what the matter was, but more than likely... yes, opening the door, he was right. Lucca had fallen asleep at her desk, snoring soundly into her equipment. Beaming like the father he always was inside, he hefted Lucca up in his powerful arms from her anti-grav chair and set her down into her bed gently, like he would have many years ago... He padded softly out of the room, his eyes brimming with the overflows of the sea of emotions churning within him. The first of the day's light caught in Lucca's glasses, dumped inside her upturned helmet by her bed, and reflected the house in the distance, upside down; Crono's.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Crono? Crono? Crono, you need to wake up! Crono?"  
  
Crono muttered a rather blatant expletive and rolled over, hiding his eyes from the morning sun peeking through where the curtains failed to cover. Which, of course, was right over his eyes. Naturally.  
  
"Crono, if you don't get up, you won't exactly make a good first impression! Crono?"  
  
He turned again, bring his pillow up and over his head, trying to blot out both the piercing sunlight of the new sun and the piercing voice of his mother emanating from the downstairs kitchen. Somehow, in the fog of dreams, he had the flash of insight that both are far too strong to contend with.  
  
"Crono, I'm serious now! If you aren't upright soon, I'm coming up there with ice water!"  
  
Crono responded back this time, barely conscious enough to force the words out of his mouth. Rolling out of bed, he wiped his sleep-crusted eyes with the back of his hand, and groped for the shirt and pants he set out the night before. He gradually gained more consciousness as he shrugged into the pristine blue shirt, reminding him of the rich, deep blue seas back in time, sixty-five million years before civilization. Hopping into the pants of the same hue, he grabbed the scabbarded-sword on his desk and strapped it to his back. It was Melchior's last gift, made from the prism- like shell of an ancient beast, and the Sun Stone, which held in it the incredible energy of sunlight. Needless to say, the thing was more than a little shiny. Crono ruffled the silken ears of the Poyozo doll on his desk and headed downstairs to eat his breakfast.  
  
Crono's mother clucked disapprovingly as Crono walked down the stairs. "Honestly, you'd think you didn't know how to dress yourself. That shirt is just simply... oh, here let me help." Moving in an aproned blur, she shifted the fabric back here, pulled it forward there, even stitched once or twice to fix the material a little more firmly on her son's wiry frame. "My, how much you've grown, recently. You've become such a nice young man, what with your adventures." Moving now to his hair, she smoothed out a rather rampant lock with a comb Crono could have sworn been non- existent moments ago. "...But some mornings you have me quite convinced I've woken the dead." Crono checked a smile on that last remark; he hadn't yet had the courage to tell his mother that episode. "There. Now, make your way to the castle and be good. Don't look at me like that, I know you're all grown up, but we mothers worry about things like this. Especially if you're going to be in the castle. Now, you'd better run, or you're going to be late."  
  
His stomach reminded him, some time later, that in his mother's flurry of last second tailoring, he had forgotten to have breakfast. As he got to the gates of Guardia castle, he was having second thought about reporting directly to the commander of the troops. Plotting a quick excursion to the mess halls, Crono saluted to the guards in proper military fashion and proceeded to slink down the corridor towards the smells of cooking bacon and eggs.  
  
* * * *  
  
The figure in the shadows of the alcove smiled. Sometimes this young man could be so predictable it was painful. Silently as a cat, the shadows melted and molded to hide the pursuer from the pursued. This one target would be enjoyable in the catch as well as the hunt...  
  
* * * *  
  
Crono darted out from behind one pillar to dash behind another in his attempt to reach the kitchen unimpeded. With quick hands, he grabbed a mis- laid helmet from where it rested on an officer's desk and jammed it down over his eyes in an attempt to look inconspicuous. He walked with a calm, self-assured air, thinking himself to be well camouflaged. In truth, he was as hidden as a clown at a funeral. No matter how deft his mother happened to be with a comb, his hair would tend to spike out in all directions, and even now spread out and around the rim of the helmet like one of Lucca's Napalm spells. He had the look of a person who is well known about the kingdom, but was trying to be hidden for any number of reasons, and was failing miserably. Soldiers, after passing with the perfunctory respect two members of the same order have for each other, would nod to each other in agreement that that was, no doubt about it, the famous Crono.  
  
The Castle of Guardia was old, to say the very least. It's halls were well maintained by it's loyal subjects for well over 200 years, and although the had been chipped and cracked and caulked again, the castle was as symbolic of the nation's pride and unity as the royal family was. On the walls were hung tapestries and beyond those were shields, all bearing the crests of the families who built the mighty citadel; family heritage that could be traced from the initiates in the barracks to the knights of old. Days when knights protected and honored tradition, when chivalry and respect were the laws of the land. Now, it wasn't the gorgeously tooled armor of gentlemanly knights that he saw traversing these halls, but the endless, undulating blue of the Guardia soldiers, chatting in clusters or walking aimlessly on their way to write a report or something, he thought. This just put him into another deeper gray mood then before, and so centered was he on his thoughts that the shadowy figure crept easily and imperceptibly towards him as he entered the noisy mess hall...  
  
Sitting down at an empty seat, he gruffly, but politely, called a waitress over to his table. The waitress, recognizing Crono, smiled and winked knowingly. She hurriedly whisked behind the mess-hall petition and brought him a heaping plateful of the breakfast being served, and scampered off to help another seated officer.  
  
* * * *  
  
Cornered in the small mess hall, and surrounded by what had to be half a regiment, it was going to be difficult to pursue him without calling attention. Slowly, taking full advantage of blind spots and turned backs, closer, closer, closer the figure crept until...  
  
"CRONO!" Marle shouted, snatching the filched helmet off his head as if she was unwrapping a particularly expected birthday present. "Damn, how are you?"  
  
Crono choked slightly and managed to appease Marle with an answer before swallowing the side of bacon in his mouth. Regaining his composure, he attempted to keep light chatter with her until he had finished his breakfast.  
  
Putting hetr finger to her lips for a second, she pieced it together. "Let me guess... You're here to enlist?" Crono nodded, with added enthusiasm. Marle's bright voice, sounding chipper even over seventy men devoted to her safety, never failed to make him act love-sick and slightly dopey. "I see you've already got your uniform on. Wow, what made you decide to join up?"  
  
A flurry of comments rose to his lips to answer, but most were silenced. He told her of his discreet training with Frog- Glenn, he thought- and reminded her of what he had said, before leaving them at Queen Leene's castle. He also told her of the blade he still wore on his back, even unsheathing a half-inch of it to let it catch the flickering torchlight in the chamber, glittering in it's intrinsic power.  
  
"Well, if you're going to see the commander, you're going to be pretty late. I'll come with you to give you an excuse. Come on." Making a chivalrous gesture even Glenn would have envied, Crono allowed his princess lead him. Their destination was the desk of her personal armsman and commander of the King's troops, Darious.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Huhwhat?" Lucca snapped upright in her bed, bleary-eyed but excited. "Oh, yes, yesyesyesyesyes-" she started muttering, her words running into one another as she grabbed her glasses and affixed her helmet. "Where is it, where is it?" She started searching frantically through her papers for something, becoming increasingly doubtful of its existence. "Damn! Just another stupid dream."  
  
"Lucca? Are you awake?" Taban said, the wood of the door muffling his rich baritone voice. "We have some lunch saved for you. We didn't know how long you were going to be asleep."  
  
Eyes squinted closed and teeth gritted, Lucca called back. "Yeah, Dad, I'll be down there in a sec, lemme just write something down." Dashing hopes and morning tears with the back of her hand, she scribbled the last thing she heard in her dream on a scrap of paper on her cluttered desk.  
  
-DEOXYRIBOSOMAL STRUCTURE OF LAVOS-  
  
* * * *  
  
The armsman Darious had spent many years in the service of his Lord Guardia the XXXIII, much more than the twenty years required of military men. He had heard of the famous Crono and his adventures and, quite frankly, didn't believe them. Time travel, teleportation, playing games with history, saving the future of humanity? Honestly, what was one supposed to say to that? And now he wants to join the ranks of His Majesty's Royal Troops? Well, he's late to begin with. Probably still mucking about with his rag-tag "adventurers" from the tree-house, he found himself thinking. I'll run him through the most exhausting, most rigorous programs the troops had to offer, and drive those adventuring days out of his head. What he needs is some good, hard-  
  
"Darious?" Marle said, snapping the older man to an extravagant salute. "My deepest apologies."  
  
"Your Highness, there's no need to apologize," Darious said, almost automatically. Shamefully, as an afterthought, he added, "Whatever for?"  
  
"I delayed this young lad on his way to your recruiting post. I have the pleasure of introducing you to my most trusted and skilled swordsman, Crono." Marle had to admit she quite enjoyed throwing her armsman completely off-balance by introducing him personally to Crono. Even as well trained as he was, Darious' eyes widened almost imperceptibly, showing her she was still on top of her game.  
  
Darious nearly choked but cleared his throat before the princess. Going through the motions and procedures of inducting a new recruit, he couldn't help thinking how... how... unkempt the "great swordsman" looked. He looked no older than 16, but there was something, some glint in the boy's eyes that reassured him he was much, much older than the number of years he'd seen.  
  
As Darious studied Crono, Crono did the same, appraising the man with eyes that had seen the world's birth, apogee, and death. The man was the image one called to mind when you thought of a royal armsman; almost fifty, graying at the temples, but a powerful physique, one his uniform tried to hide, but ended up accentuating. There was also a driving force about the man, an energy that forced you to feel something for this man. Envy? Respect? Something deeper?  
  
"So, Mr. Crono, if you'll fill out this sheet, as we ask all of our recruits to, I shall arrange your screening." Darious smiled pleasantly at the young man, despite the thoughts running through his head. Moving to stand next to the princess, he muttered "Enjoying the game yet, my lady?" into her ear.  
  
Marle was convincingly blank in her response. "Game, Darious? What game?"  
  
Remembering his place, he snapped to attention, and muttered a hasty "Mi'lady" before hustling the young man off to the armory, where he would be issued a real weapon, not the cardboard and tin foil on his back.  
  
Marle sighed theatrically at her rather disapproving bodyguard. She knew Crono would be ok. It's not like this is something new for him. He's faced worse. Like -- 


	2. Metaphysics and Tuna Fish

"--Lavosh." Lucca was saying to her father, around a tuna fish and tomato sandwich.  
  
"Honey, don't talk with you mouth full." her mother gently reminded.  
  
"Yesh, do ash your-" Taban said, pausing to swallow. "Nevermind."  
  
Lucca obligingly finished the bite and proceeded as if uninterrupted. "You see, Robo had unknowingly been splattered by part of him, from the future. Apparently, he was struck by one of the needles Lavos is so well known for." Putting down the sandwich, Lucca leaned closer over the table, warmed to her favorite part of the subject. "What I guess must have happened is that Balthazar, the Guru who built the Epoch," she said, jerking her thumb out the window to the time machine/plane, "must have met Robo and put him where we found him. Which would explain why he wasn't completely ruined by the time we got to him. I'm not completely sure, though. It's the only explanation I have of it, without being able to tap into Robo's 'subconscious'"  
  
"Subconscious?" Taban asked.  
  
"Certainly. Well, not subconscious quite like a human brain, but on a neural net level, an AI system doesn't know about what it's component binary system is doing, anymore than you could tell me right now which neurons in your brain are active, and which aren't. So, it's sort of subconscious, only in rudimentary definition; being below his active ability to retrieve data. Fire/ unfired, on/ off, 1/ 0. It's all the same on one level."  
  
"Ok. Now say that slower."  
  
Lucca blushed, and coughed embarrassed. "Sorry, Dad. I was just thinking out loud, and I get really, really technical. In any case, it means that looking at the older portions of his neural net could tell me more about what happened then Robo could, if we asked him."  
  
"I see. So go on, I'm interested."  
  
"So, I found sliver of one of the needles in part of the hydraulic system that worked his legs, and I pocketed it. I had completely forgot to analyze it during the trip, or even in my spare time at the End of Time... huh, what a funny thought... wasting what's already been used up..." Lucca smiled at the temporal inconsistency, and unconsciously took another bite of the half-forgotten sandwich on the plate before her.  
  
Taban looked stunned at the news. "Yes? And? Where'd you put it? The needle, that is."  
  
Lucca smiled. "Turns out, Mom ran it through the wash with the pants I had been wearing at the time." Lara spun around, shocked at what her daughter had said. "Don't worry Mom. Actually, I could thank you. Aside for it being a squeaky-clean specimen, there must have been something in the detergent that opened the needle's coat, which allowed me to get at the still living cells inside. I have them all ready and spectroanalyzed and run in their entirety through my computer. You wouldn't believe how much information it took! Most people's information usually takes about a gig or two, but Lavos took up all of one of my hard-drives!"  
  
"That must be some heavy-duty info. Had time to read through it?" Taban was entranced by his daughter's skill.  
  
"Only a little. It just tells me what I already know; it lived, and then it died. Reading through it is reading through the programming code- version of a living being," Lucca said, sighing. Looking up with a second thought, she grinned. "No pictures, Dad."  
  
Taban looked placated, then frowned and shook his head. "Uh, you said it died, right? Was this from before or after you changed history?"  
  
Lucca looked up, paused just before taking a bite. Stunned, her mouth moved, but no answer was emitted. At some length, she started up again. "Well, considering this universe has only one timeline, and we altered time after we picked up Robo from the future, but then again, we killed Lavos in the time stream before we found Robo, but our subjective timelines-"  
  
Lucca's mother held her forehead between her thumb and middle finger and walked from the room muttering, "Oh, this is the part where she makes my head hurt... Seriously, though, I'll be downstairs folding your laundry. Don't forget to bring it upstairs."  
  
Taban laughed as Lucca rolled her eyes, and began to start in again. Sorting out pre-tampered with, tampered with and subjective timelines, they found the root of the problem only a few hours and sandwiches later.  
  
"So, since I found the needle in him in our first travels to the future, but could it have changed to a 'tampered-with' timeline needle if we had beat Lavos without ever meeting Robo?"  
  
"Ah, assuming Robo exists."  
  
Lucca sighed and settled back into her chair. "That's right. I never found out what happenned after we sent him back.. well, forward... well, back home, I guess. After rescuing Crono's mom-"  
  
"And his cat, as I recall."  
  
"Yes, his cat too, we decided to call it quits, and keep the Epoch as kind of like a novelty item; our own personal aircraft, too."  
  
"Whaddya say we go and visit him? See how the future really turned out?"  
  
"Well, due to the laws of The Conservation of Time/Space, and the fact that we only have three seats in the Epoch, who else is going to go?" It took less than the space of a breath to come to a unanimous decision.  
  
"Crono," they said in unison, over the kitchen table.  
  
* * * *  
  
Brief as his time was in the Middle Ages of civilization, Crono felt himself longing to be back. Times were simpler, if a little rougher. Since then, humanity invented bureaucracy and imperialism. One didn't need identification in those days, you were who you said you were. And you sure as Hell didn't need all of this... this... stuff, he thought, groping for the right words to express his position. He had been bumped, jostled, nearly hazed while Darius wasn't looking, and had clean uniforms, a few unloaded side-arms, boxes of ammunition, his unbelted sword (in it's scabbard), and various pamphlets, leaflets, tracts and offers shoved into his arms. The growing pile was ungainly, to say the least, and reminded Crono of how much he really didn't like doing this. A rather large part of him was also beginning to think this was really unnecessary to being a good swordsman.  
  
Crono hadn't paid attention to much of what Darius said (mostly ordering around people beneath his position) and instead tried to find what he was hiding so deeply. The older soldier walked smoothly, but with a clipped, dictatorial pace, almost challenging someone to stop him. Nothing odd there. His hands were callused and rough to the touch. They were very revealing hands; worked raw by discipline, but understanding enough to know their own strength. It is said that one can judge a man's heart by his hands. Could another's heart once have been held by those scarred, bruised hands?  
  
"...cleaning off the floor of the mess hall, washing the kitchen down, and scrubbing the tables. There, that is the list of your duties for tomorrow. I am giving you tonight as your last night as a civilian, and tomorrow I expect you here promptly at the break of dawn. Understood?"  
  
Crono nodded mutely. This was becoming very reminiscent of his prison stay, except this time he was given time to say good-bye to his mother.  
  
"Well, then, I'm going to bid you goodnight, and hope to- ahem, will look forward to your more permanent installment in our ranks. And so I bid you goodnight." Remember to come back, he barely kept from saying. Crono, taking this as his moment to leave, stiffly turned on his heel and walked down the hall, tripping every once in a while on the slightly scuffed castle stones.  
  
* * * *  
  
Heaping his new equipment on top of his desk, Crono 'whuffed' as he flung himself on the bed, hearing the springs squeak in protest. Oh, he would sleep tonight. He was going to have to, if he was going to wake up at dawn. ...What was that sound?  
  
The door slammed open, smacking against the wall of the dining room downstairs. "Crono! We need you!" Lucca's voice resounded, which of course, was met with a stern reprimand by his mother, remarking on the hour and the tone of voice, and the- oh, how are you this evening, Taban? Crono rushed downstairs, eager for the kind of action Lucca was wont to follow her. Summing up their discoveries in her lab in a rather rushed manner, ("HeyCronoguesswhatturnsoutIfoundsomethingthatcouldbereallycool.We'regoingto thefuture. Wannacome?") and connived his mother into letting him go, convincing her they'd sleep when they got to the future. Running back upstairs to grab his sword, they leaped into the Epoch, and sped towards the light of that false dawn...  
  
* * * *  
  
THE FUTURE, 2029 AD  
  
The first thing they all noticed about the future was that it was very shiny. They noticed other things as well, but the luminosity of it all struck them simultaneously, reaching 2029. Settling down in a strip of land that appeared created for the Epoch, Lucca brought the three-wheeled vehicle to a perfect landing, dead center of the strip.  
  
A single form appeared on the tar horizon. A wheeled, tottering mechanical... robot! Machinery had at least survived in the new future, but had Robo, in his consciousness and memory? The 'bot came closer and announced, in a highly mechanized voice synth:  
  
"LORD-TABAN, LADY-LUCCA-AND-GODSLAYER-CRONO, IF-YOU-WILL-FOLLOW-ME, PLEASE," the being droned.  
  
"GodSlayer, now?" Lucca smirked, "Quite a title. Let's hope the people find the man fitting of it." Crono smiled meekly and swallowed quite audibly. Turning smartly as he had been recently taught to, he followed the 'bot.  
  
* * * *  
  
Doan watched their departure from the Epoch with hardly contained happiness. The televiser on the airstrip was microscopic enough to allow him to watch the group without being noticed while they were being herded towards his office. How many long years have I waited for this moment? Now, it seems as though thirty years were only yesterday... As the drone keyed the dome's open sequence, Doan had his back turned and was reviewing the message sent to him from Lucca, over a thousand years earlier. Encoded in a primitive form of programming language, the message was not even holographic. What could you expect from a person from her age, though? For all he knew of history, the programming language she used had not even come into use yet, and computers as he knew them simply did not exist.  
  
"...crackle... coming with your saviors, in the year 2029, by our system of...fizzzst... Lucca, Crono the GodSlayer, and Taban, my father. We're only making a brief visit, but if you have any que- ...sssshkk... I can only hope this message reaches you. See you when we get there!" Remembering one final step, Doan spun his chair around and ran the zipcard through the slot. "I had almost forgotten about the Old Man..." Doan muttered to himself as the cardslot ran it's PIN dial-up. "Cret, would I have been in trouble if he was late for this. "  
  
* * * *  
  
"PLEASE-WAIT-HERE. DIRECTOR-DOAN-WILL-BE-ALONG-SHORTLY." The bot teetered, turned shakily, and wheeled down the long corridor in the direction the came from. It was a simple, plain hall. Nothing different, nothing even remotely interesting to look at either. Very cold, very sterile, the halls could have as easily been in a hospital as in the future.  
  
Lucca sighed. "Well, that's comforting, too. At least we already know someone here. The only question is if he's the Doan who knows us, or another Doan who had been born in this new future?"  
  
"Always a chance." Taban said, then started, rather violently. A though hit him with such full force that it nearly sickened him. "Lucca?"  
  
"Yes, Dad?"  
  
"Did I... I mean, do you think... that is... Am I...--"  
  
"Dad, you're sputtering. Just say it, for Pete's sake."  
  
"Am I the father you know- knew- am- uh... I mean... well..."  
  
"Actually, Dad-" Suddenly they all heard the leisurely but anxious clip-clop of boots on the tile floor down the hall. The footsteps were uneven in pace, sometimes unhurried, sometimes quickened, but all the time coming closer to their position.  
  
"Uh, h-hello? Director Doan?" Taban asked for the group.  
  
"Yes, sir, that would be me," the man said, coming into view. "Please, though, just call me Doan. I have enough people here calling me 'Director' that I don't need more. Besides that, it just doesn't sound right." He laughed, a tight, nervous laugh. "Ahem, well, in any case, I'd like you to walk this way. It isn't very far, and there are some people that I know you'd like to see." Doan shuffled a minute, then, as if he changed his mind, came closer to Crono and ruffled his red, spiky hair. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"  
  
Crono smiled, relaxed at the old man's suddenly eased demeanor, and followed his lead further into the dome, winding and twisting their way until he was completely lost as to where they were in the building.  
  
Doan stopped at an apparently dead-end. The wall just simply curved around in a perfect U and went straight back the way it came. Doan pulled a chain with a card on it from around his neck. "Watch your eyes," he warned, then placed the card at the symmetrical center of the wall. The wall phased out of existence, letting the dome's UV filtered sunlight into the fluorescently lit hall way. The effect was an astoundingly bright burst of light, then, as their eyes, adjusted, they saw endless streets and houses, and beyond, a bustling city. Doan led them on to the hovering pad before them, and as it started to descend through the glass tube, he beamed,"Welcome, friends, to the future you created."  
  
Lucca snorted loudly. "Ha, now you're just trying to be pretentious."  
  
"Yeah, well, sort of." Doan said, and shuffled his feet, rather like a schoolboy caught cheating. "You see, I've been waiting for this for years, so I kind of have most of what I'm going to say planned out already, you know, on BleepMems back at my house, and I have the whole thing written out on my desk computer at my office... I'm just trying to come off as, well... well... a lot better off then you last saw me. That was pretty embarrassing, actually."  
  
Crono smiled and reflected on the last time they met Doan. Shivering, huddled in rags, he was the Director of nothing more than a few people who had nearly lost the will to live in their dreary existence. Now, he thought, he's really a Director, head of staff and everything. He'd lost a world, and now gained it back. Wait, he started to think, that doesn't make any sense...  
  
Lucca, too, was admiring the city, as if the future was one of her projects she happened to do really well. She would have loved to see its construction, see it raised like her father's friends would raise a house with sheer manpower alone. Not that she didn't offer them tools to do that sort of work, but oh well. Not everyone can appreciate genius in action.  
  
The elevated pad slowed, then came to a stop, as the glass parted itself. The noise of the summer day outside could have replaced any in any other time. Children playing, people mowing lawns, neighbors talking, mothers calling... it was pristine, gorgeous. "These are the tail end of the suburbs, here." Doan began to explain, leading them to a personal transit unit. "Which is not to say they're the poor end. No, actually, these houses are comparatively expensive, mainly because this is the capitol city. Everyone wants a piece of the action, you see, but not too much. Guardia was a little like that, as I remember, before it-" Doan sudden stopped himself in mid-sentence. "I'm sorry. I really shouldn't say that. It's not my place to tell you things to come." He said, with his head bowed. A non-descript looking woman ushered them onto a raised monorail platform, informing the group that she was a part of Security, and flashing her badge. "I'm sorry for the safety measures. These people insist on keeping me in perfect condition."  
  
"It's not like I couldn't find out for myself, you know." Lucca smirked, when the woman had moved further from where he was sitting. "Just gimme a few minutes with a hacking technique for the security, then just query the city's databases. Not a problem." Doan sighed and shrugged.  
  
Natually, Crono wasn't listening to a word being said, and was trying to take everything in at the same time. The city was beautiful, he thought. There were trees lining the avenues, lush green grasses in the front yard of every house, two storied brick houses painted all different colors, two- wheeled, four-wheeled and six-wheeled vehicles were parked on the street in front. He could only imagine himself in one of those houses, playing by himself, or learning some new techniques, maybe even meeting friends like Marle and Lucca. One never knew; there could even be one of his decendants right here, oblivious to his or her ancestor's presence. The thought petered out of his mind as the monorail stopped at the station.  
  
"Allow me to introduce myself, the woman said, taking her glasses off to clean them. I'm Staff Member 026 Sonja Blake, Security Special Divisions. My branch of Security is under jurisdiction of the Director's house staff. If you'll follow me, please..."  
  
"Translated, you're his bodyguard, am I right?" Taban said, with the brusque flair of his daughter.  
  
"Not his only one. I'm assigned to this mission personally, from Security HQ. I'll be your protectorate as well for the remainder of your stay. And please, just call me Sonja. I hate formal titles." 


	3. Brave New Future

THE PRESENT, 1010 AD  
  
Guardia Castle  
  
The dark legions had raised hell on the countrysides for long enough, the king of Guardia had proclaimed. War would wash this stain from the land, he said. Nothing will wash this stain from my hands, ever. The king is dead. Darious slowly relaxed his grip on the knife in his hand. He had never hated the boy, but the deed had to have been done. It had to have been done, if he wanted his to see his family again, alive. The dagger finally dropped to the ground with a loud clatter, jarring Darious out of his reverie. The body lay before him, mutely mocking him with lips frozen in the shape of his name. He lay there, with the stately robes of office, the lopsided crown... the spiky red hair, the lumeniscent sword...  
  
Crono lay still on the marble floor, the killing weapon dropped at his feet. Darious stepped once backwards, then once again, then turned and scrubbed his face with his hands, just enough get the blood circulating before stepping out and proclaiming the king to be dead.  
  
* * * *  
  
THE FUTURE, 2029 AD  
  
Trann Dome  
  
"Well, this is familiar, isn't it, Crono? Well, I mean, sort of." Lucca garbled.  
  
The rounded building was the old future's Trann Dome, restored to the glory it must have had before Lavos' destructive presence. Its vaulted heights glinted and gleamed in the light, sending reflections everywhere inside the dome. The polarized glass let an even amount of light in at all times, as the tinting of the panes waxed and waned under the afternoon sky. Posters and advertisements hung, like the pennants of Guardia castle, from the fiberglass rafters and cross beams, looking both out of place and at home in this luminescent palace of white. It had the archetecture of a cathedral, but the general atmosphere of a mess hall. People were talking in groups, transporting goods, buying food; just everywhere was commotion and chaos. Doan smiled and let Sonja lead the group in.  
  
"D'ya think it's this bad all the time?" Lucca shouted in Crono's direction. Crono shrugged and said something but it was lost in the din of the atmosphere. Retreating to an elevator in the corner, Sonja again opened the door with her keycard, allowing the doors to close behind them and silence the noise of the atrium beyond.  
  
"Well, it's just about lunchtime now," Doan said.  
  
Taban gaped and sputtered, while giving his daughter a quizzical look. "That's not possible! It was almost 10 when we left Crono's. What gives, Lucca?"  
  
"Well, there's two explainations. First is the technical one: the flux capacators on the Epoch, the prime components of the time/space modification ability, are degrading at an internally consistant rate since their installation." Lucca's eyes went distant as she began talking more to herself than anyone else. "The circuits will be utterly obsolete within a few years, which probably means I'll have to check the decay rate of it's other components. I don't know what to expect though. It could be just as simple as wear and tear, but it could be something more like the Hourglass Effect overflowing the cockpit, maligning the equasion for the time/rate-of- decay functions of the hardware. I may just reroute the power flow to the thrusters to have the Epoch manufacture its own protective shielding to buffer it from unnatural temporal degradation due to-"  
  
Taban, Crono, and Doan looked at her with exactly the same lack of recognition. Lucca blushed deeply, harrumphed, and proceeded embarrassedly. "Ok, moving on. Explaination two: Balthazar never fine-tuned the Epoch. Plus the fact that he was rapidly going insane at the same time didn't help."  
  
Doan streched up to mutter something into Taban's ear. Guessing from the silly grin on Taban's face, she guessed he asked what everyone else always asked him: "Is she always like this?" She clenched her teeth and did her best to look like she didn't care what anyone thought of her.  
  
"Well, you could always try overclocking the flux capacators," Sonja said, joining the conversation for the first time.  
  
"What?"  
  
Sonja leaned back against the wall of the elevator and opened her hand in an aloof gesture. "Sure, it wouldn't be that hard. Crack it open, locate the capacators, and make 'em run faster than they should be able to. It'd compensate for the flow lost through normal wear and tear, but if you have Hourglass Effect overflow, it might just cancel out the whole thing and leave you stranded. The only thing is, you gotta be sure you'd have enough venting and cooling for the thing, otherwise you'd get stranded then, too. That'd keep you running for another two years, if you don't blow 'er out otherwise."  
  
"Not you too, Sonja." Doan reprimanded, jokingly, "What have I said about talking shop while on duty?"  
  
"Sorry sir." Sonja leaned down and whispered the last part in Lucca's ear. "In the meantime, you might want to go over the whole thing with a fine-toothed comb, work out any kinks in the machinery. Like you said, Balthazar was going a little batty at the time, so I bet there'd still be some stuff you could modify."  
  
Lucca gave her a big thumbs up. "Right!"  
  
The elevator slowed it's ascent up into the building's heart, as Director Doan realized something. "Goodness!" Doan said, slapping his palm to his forehead, "It was about ten when you left 1000 AD? How inhospitable I am, dragging you around when you should be getting some rest!" Crono nodded and yawned a huge yawn in response.  
  
"Here, I apologize. Corwyn?" he said, speaking into the com unit on the wall, "Stop the elveator on Level 32, please?" The elevator ceased it's steady motion and the door slid quietly open, revealing another blank, sanitized hall. "Sonja, show them to the sleeping quarters, would you? There are also some things I must attend to, while you rest. Please, pardon me for being so abrupt." Doan smiled and urged Sonja on her way, with the others in tow. The doors shut again without a sound, leaving Doan alone in the silent compartment. "Just a few things to attend to..."  
  
* * * *  
  
"Let me out!" the crotchety old man screamed from inside his cell. "You have no right to shut me in!" Stillness and silence was the only responce he got. "Damn near the only responce I ever get in this frigging hell." The unsteady clomp of boots and jingle of keys in the hall caught his attention. It came closer with leisurely but uneven steps, like a drunkard making his way home in the night. The noises came right up to the door, whereby it was accompanied by a face: the face of the Director.  
  
Doan peered into the cell, sneering at the man imprisoned within. "Well, it certainly seems like your lucky timeline."  
  
The old geyzer just hunched on his bed, and looked sullenly at the man. "You jackass. What are you talking about?"  
  
"I'm talking about our beloved Lucca, old-timer. She's here, don't you know."  
  
The man on the bed looked at Doan for a second, blinked, then laughed loud enough to be heard down the hall. "Ha! You honestly think that's supposed to scare me? You don't get it, do you? You're gonna get screwed! She'll find out the crap you're tring to pull with MOIRE and bust it wide open!"  
  
"Listen to me, you-"  
  
The old man leaned forward, with a look in his eye that was startlingly familiar to the Director. "No, you listen to me, 'Doan'," the prisoner said, spitting the name for his lips, "You've set yourself up to take a fall, no matter what you try to do. She's got the power to undo it, and don't think she won't use it if she needs to."  
  
The Director straightened himself up, and stepped away from the grille. "I see. But that shouldn't matter to you, seeing as you've only got four walls to talk to. Good bye, Doan." 


End file.
